


These Five Words I Swear To You

by pohjanneito



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Pennywise (IT), Awkward First Times, Consensual Underage Sex, Established Relationship, First Time, Grinding, It's the 90s, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Premature Ejaculation, Richie Tozier Has ADHD, germaphobia, they're seniors in high school
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-23
Updated: 2020-02-23
Packaged: 2021-02-28 05:27:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,973
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22758508
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pohjanneito/pseuds/pohjanneito
Summary: They've been planning this from the moment Richie saw his mom circle October 5th on the calendar that hangs on the kitchen wall, Went’s plan to treat her for their silver anniversary with a trip to Portland gifting Richie an empty house.And it's finally happening. Sex with Eddie. They were gonna do it. Tonight.Or: Richie and Eddie have their first time.
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Comments: 31
Kudos: 468





	These Five Words I Swear To You

**Author's Note:**

  * For [FancyKraken](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FancyKraken/gifts).



> The sex is completely consensual, but Richie and Eddie are seniors in high school. If that's something that bothers you, please don't read.
> 
> Big thanks to Bonnie and Selene for the beta and help in general! <3

Richie taps his fingers against the worn lacquer of the kitchen table as he watches his mother write down the name of a hotel in Portland, followed by a phone number. She hangs the note on the fridge with an old Rice Krispies magnet, and turns to look at Richie.

“You promise to call us if something happens?”

Richie’s left foot joins the impatient rhythm of his fingers. Tap-tap-tap. Tap-tap-tap. “Yeah, yeah, but this is Derry. What’s gonna happen in forty-eight hours? It’s not like I’m gonna throw a rager or something.”

Maggie narrows her eyes and fixes her gaze on Richie’s fingers, fluent in all of his nervous tics in that annoying mom way. Richie balls his hand into a fist and curls his toes inside his sneaker to still his foot.

“Just promise me that you won’t burn the house down.”

She comes over to give his hair a fond ruffle, and Richie ducks away when she tries to kiss his forehead.

“ _Mom_ , come on, I promise!”

Maggie laughs and reaches into her purse for a small mirror and a tube of lipstick. She applies it like she’s in slow motion, smacking her lips as Went honks the horn in the driveway.

"Alright, have a lovely weekend, honey. And let Eddie know there are fresh towels for him in the guest bathroom."

Richie's cheeks heat up at the realization that his mother has guessed that Eddie's gonna spend the night, but that's all she says about it. He nods and follows her to the front door, counting down to the moment when the taillights of their old Ford finally disappear behind the Henderson house. Once he’s sure his parents are gone, he makes a mad dash up the stairs, his foot nearly catching on the loose corner in the carpet in front of his room.

He glances at the red digits on the alarm clock on his nightstand and does some quick math in his head to determine how much time he has to get everything ready for his and Eddie’s Special Night.

They've been planning this from the moment Richie saw his mom circle October 5th on the calendar that hangs on the kitchen wall, Went’s plan to treat her for their silver anniversary with a trip to Portland gifting Richie an empty house.

And it's finally happening. Sex with Eddie. They were gonna do it. Tonight.

Richie takes a quick look at the mess that is his room and cracks his knuckles one, two, three, four times, and gets to work.

He knows Eddie is used to the disarray by now, even if he nags about it every single time he visits, but there’s no way he'll let Richie take his v card surrounded by smelly socks and sweat-stained t-shirts.

Richie hauls three armfuls of laundry into the hamper in the bathroom and yanks his rumpled Mario sheets off the bed. He’s never changed his own sheets and it takes him a while to find the linen closet in the basement, but he comes back with a nice set of freshly laundered tartan sheets, and does his best to make his bed look inviting. 

Once his room looks more presentable, Richie pulls his shirt over his head and kicks his jeans off on his way to the bathroom. He showered before school, but sweated through his shirt before second period, the knowledge of what’s coming making him feel like he’s on a prolonged sugar high.

He hadn’t seen Eddie outside of lunch and bio, but Richie knows he’s not the only one who’s been looking forward to an empty house. They’ve been stuck on third base ever since Eddie let Richie stick his hand in his pants on his birthday last spring, but that was over six months ago, and as much as he loves all the heavy petting, lately all it does is make him feel frustrated. Kind of like if someone gave him a bite from their Snickers bar and told him that’s all he can have, while they dangle the rest of it in front of his face.

Richie turns the shower on and eyes himself in the mirror as he waits for the water to heat up, relieved to find his complexion spot-free. There are some wispy hairs above his lip that he can barely see, but he knows he’ll have to get rid of them, because Eddie doesn’t like the way they feel when they kiss.

He gets into the shower and scrubs every inch of his body until his skin is pink and his dick is half hard. He considers jerking off, but he wants tonight to be all about Eddie, so he turns the tap until the water gets cooler and stands under the spray until his dick gets the message.

He wipes his palm against the fogged up mirror above the sink and puts his glasses back on, but his reflection is a blur as he views the world through oily fingerprints. He’s about to clean them with his towel, but decides to rummage through the cabinet below the sink until he finds the special cloth Eddie got for him after he got sick of nagging about the way Richie uses the hem of his shirt to clean his glasses.

And okay, maybe he should have used the thing sooner, because he’s pretty sure his glasses haven’t been this clean since he got them at the optometrist.

He runs a comb through his wet hair and uses his razor above his upper lip, not even bothering with shaving cream. The can his dad got for him last summer is still more than half full, and Richie's pretty sure he'll never graduate to full mustache when the best he can do is something that resembles a chocolate milk stain.

He can already feel himself begin to perspire and he gives his pits three extra rolls from his stick of deodorant. He considers raiding his parents’ bathroom for some cologne, but decides it’d be weird if he smells like his dad when he's in bed with Eddie.

Richie's known how Eddie is about germs since they were kids and Eddie had a major freakout over Bill sneezing in his direction without covering his face. He gives his teeth a thorough brush, paying extra attention to his braces, even though he knows none of it will stop Eddie from having his usual kissing-related anxiety. Richie hadn't even been allowed to french him until they were four months into their relationship, and there are still times when Eddie refuses to part his lips.

It’s not so bad once Richie gets him all hot and bothered, but it’s pretty clear that the issue isn’t going away any time soon. Because fuck Sonia and her bullshit, the damage she'd done to her son something Richie didn't fully grasp until his and Eddie’s after-school activities became decidedly non-platonic.

Most of his clothes are in the hamper, but he finds a pair of fairly recently washed jeans and a black and white henley that makes his arms look like bean poles, but at least it’s clean. He feels a little naked without one of his Hawaiian shirts, but he doesn't want tonight to feel like just another Friday, so he leaves them in the closet.

It’s fifteen minutes past seven when Richie has everything ready for Eddie’s arrival. Well, almost everything. He reaches into his school bag and pulls out the list Eddie had slipped him two weeks ago, a torn off piece of paper from the notebook he uses in math.

It’s all crumpled from Richie’s hands, Eddie’s neat handwriting barely legible as he goes through it one more time to make sure he didn’t forget anything. Eddie had offered to help him get everything they need, but Richie had wanted to take care of it on his own, because he _can_ be a gentleman, sometimes, even if the gesture earned him an eye roll from Eddie and Beverly, who’s the only one who knows about their big night.

They probably wouldn’t even be doing anything tonight if it wasn’t for her, because it was Beverly who helped Richie get his hands on a strip of condoms. He’d made a valiant effort to sneak into Keene’s pharmacy to steal some, but the old creep has x-ray vision or something, and he definitely hadn’t forgotten the lifetime ban he’d given to Richie after he knocked down a couple of shelves in the intimate care aisle a few years ago.

He lays the strip of condoms on his bed and rummages through his nightstand for a small paper bag. Inside is the jar of vaseline he’d found on his mother's vanity, and it’s definitely not the same as actual lube, but it’s the best he can do. There’s also a box of latex gloves he’d swiped from his dad’s practice. They’re kind of an overkill, even for Eddie, but there’s no way Richie's taking the risk of having Eddie call the whole thing off because something from his list is missing.

The small collection of items is complete once Richie sets a packet of wet wipes next to the gloves. It almost looks like they’re getting ready for a session of some weird medical roleplay, but knowing Eddie, he’ll probably find the whole thing romantic.

Richie makes sure their usual makeout tape is in the cassette player and hits the rewind button before heading downstairs. He throws himself on the floral-patterned sofa in front of the window that gives him a perfect view of their driveway, the nervous tap-tap-tap of his fingers returning as he waits for Eddie to arrive.

He’s very familiar with Sonia’s evening schedule after years of sneaking in through Eddie’s window, and he knows that on Friday it consist of _Doctor Quinn_ and reruns of _The Love Boat,_ followed by some gameshow and then it’s time to say goodnight to her Eddie-bear before she gets into bed with one of her harlequin novels.

The sky above the sleepy suburbia turns dark as the sun disappears behind the treeline. A few cars and a group of kids on skateboards pass by, but there’s no sign of Eddie. Richie folds his arms against the backrest and begins to crack his knuckles as he watches the street like a puppy who’s waiting for his owner to come home.

He knows that there’s always a chance that Sonia will throw a wrench in their plans, but Eddie had promised he’d find a way, that he’d come no matter what.

And it looks like he’s managed to do just that, because there he finally is, biking down the street like a maniac, the tires on his old BMX still spinning as he leaves it lying on the driveway.

Richie is up on his feet and at the door before Eddie even has a chance to ring the bell.

“Eddie, my love, I was beginning to fear you weren’t ever going to arrive,” he croons in his Southern Belle voice, swooning a little against the door frame.

Eddie rolls his eyes and pushes past him, his backpack bumping against Richie’s stomach.

“Come on, Richie, you promised you wouldn’t do any Voices tonight.”

“Sorry, sorry,” Richie says sheepishly and closes an invisible zipper over his mouth.

Eddie drops his backpack on the floor and leans against his knees to catch his breath. It’s obvious that he’s worn himself out with the short bike ride, even more so than usual, his breaths short and wheezy.

“You okay there, Eds?” Richie asks, cupping Eddie's face. He knows Eddie hasn’t carried his inhaler since he managed to wean himself from it at the beginning of their sophomore year, and seeing him get all breathless like this always makes Richie’s stomach twist with fear. “Come on, try to catch your breath. Do you need me to breathe with you?”

“I’m fine,” Eddie huffs, brushing Richie’s hands away. He glances up and his expression turns a little softer. “Sorry, I just rode here as fast as I could because I knew I was late and I didn’t want you to think I wasn’t gonna show up, but it took me forever to sneak out of the house, because my Mom has like some crazy high tolerance for Sleep-Eze and it took longer for it to kick in than I thought it would.”

“Wait, what?” Richie asks as Eddie finally pauses his tirade of words to take a breath. “You slipped Sonia a sleeping pill? Holy shit, Eddie!”

“It’s just Sleep-Eze,” Eddie says defensively, and his brows pull into an angry line above his eyes. “She fed me shit I didn’t need for most of my life! And you think she’d have just let me come and spend the night at your house after she caught us in my room last summer?”

Richie knows the question is rhetorical, because he hasn’t even been allowed to enter the Kaspbrak house since Sonia saw him with his tongue down Eddie’s throat last 4th of July, the fireworks outside preventing him and Eddie from hearing her approach until it was too late.

Richie clasps his palm against Eddie’s neck and leans down to press their foreheads together. “I’m just glad you’re here, Eds.”

Eddie smiles at him, his breaths evening out as he relaxes. He leans back and his eyes go almost comically wide as they dart up and down Richie's lanky body.

“Holy shit you look nice. Like, _really_ nice. Even your glasses are clean!”

Richie gives Eddie a hooded look down the bridge of his nose. “Only the best for you, dahling.”

Eddie’s too flustered to notice that Richie has slipped back into a Voice. “Aw fuck, I didn’t even have time to get ready!” He turns around to stare at his reflection in the mirror that hangs next to the coat rack and runs his fingers through his windswept hair in an attempt to smooth it.

“Hey, hey, you look fine, you always do," Richie says, wrapping his fingers around Eddie's wrist. "You could wear a skunk on your head and I'd still be hot for you."

Richie's sweet talk lands on deaf ears as Eddie pulls away from him and grabs his backpack from the floor.

“Just give me five minutes,” he says, leaving Richie to stare after him as he disappears into the guest bathroom.

Being alone with his thoughts makes Richie's stomach twist with nerves, and he considers raiding Went’s liquor cabinet for some liquid courage, but Eddie would flip if he smelled booze on his breath, so he wanders into the kitchen and pours them both a glass of his mom's homemade lemonade. He sets the drinks on a tray and gets a couple of boxes of Milk Duds and some Sour Patch Kids from the pantry, knowing how much Eddie likes them and how rarely he gets to have them if Sonia is around.

He looks up when he hears the bathroom door open. Eddie comes to stand in the doorway, his hair neatly combed into his usual good boy do (which Richie can’t wait to ruin) and he's changed into the burgundy button-up from his most recent yearbook photo.

“Yowza!” Richie grins, wagging his brows. “You wanted to get all pretty for me, huh?”

“Shut up…” Eddie mutters, but he’s unable to keep his cheeks from dimpling. He clears his throat and turns his eyes on the tray Richie’s holding in his hands. “So, what’s the plan? You gonna wine and dine me first?”

“Well, if Maggie’s special brew and some Milk Duds and Sour Patches count, then sure,” Richie says, nodding his head for Eddie to open the basement door.

He's pretty sure he can actually see the line of Eddie's shoulders relax as they descend into their usual hangout in the rec room. And okay, maybe Eddie isn’t the only one who’s happy to take a little detour from the main event, because just the thought of taking Eddie upstairs makes Richie’s stomach do gymnastics.

The air in the basement smells like laundry detergent, old clothes and decades worth of junk, but it’s a cozy little place, and almost as special as the clubhouse. Most of their movie nights take place at Bill’s house, because the Denbroughs have the biggest TV, but Eddie always seems most comfortable right here, pressed against Richie’s side on the lumpy old sofa.

Richie sets the tray down and hands Eddie a glass of lemonade with an exaggerated bow. Eddie just snorts and gets comfortable in his usual spot where the sofa cushion holds a permanent dent in the shape of his body.

They sip on their drinks and Richie glances around, wondering how to proceed. “Did you, uh, want to watch a movie or something?”

“Hmmhmhh,” Eddie hums, the sound so vague that only someone fully fluent in the language that is Edward Kaspbrak knows how to interpret it.

Richie goes through his VHS collection, neatly organized on a shelf next to his sister's old skiing gear, and pulls out _Princess Bride_ , because adventure with a dash of romance seems appropriate on a night like this.

“This good?” 

“Uhhuh,” Eddie nods, his mouth already full of Milk Duds.

Richie shoves the cassette into the VCR and settles next to Eddie as they wait for the tape to rewind. There’s still a weird tension in the air that Richie hasn’t felt since the first weeks after they started dating, back when everything between them was still new and a little intimidating.

They settle down to watch the movie, stuffing their mouths with candy, but once the snacks are gone and his hands have nothing left to reach for, Richie’s body feels like it’s suddenly made of pure nerves. He wants to crack his knuckles so bad, but he knows Eddie can’t stand the sound and he has to plaster his palms against his thighs to stop himself.

He knows he should do the old yawn-and-stretch and gather Eddie in his arms like he normally does, but he just sits with his back ramrod straight, his eyes trained on a pile of board games on the opposite side of the room. He hears Eddie shift against the worn leather of the couch, knows that Eddie's eyes are no longer focused on the TV.

“Okay, what the hell is wrong with you?” Eddie finally asks, audibly annoyed.

“What do you mean what’s wrong with me?" Richie aims for flippant, but ends up sounding like he's twelve and his voice just dropped.

Eddie shuffles closer until he’s plastered against Richie’s side, because personal space isn't a concept either of them has ever been too familiar with.

"Why are you so quiet? Usually, no one can stop you from doing your stupid Miracle Max impressions, and you’re sitting there like you’re afraid that I’m gonna bite you or something.”

Richie feels his glasses slide down his nose and he uses both hands to set them right. “Well, you said no Voices tonight, I was just trying to respect your wishes."

“Bullshit,” Eddie scoffs.

“Okay, fine. I guess I’m just a little-”

“Nervous?” Eddie asks, his voice taking on a softer tone. He pries Richie’s hands off his knees and folds them between his palms. “I’m nervous, too, but that’s okay, right?”

Richie nods, his nostrils flaring as he blows out a stuttering breath. “Right.”

Eddie tugs on his hair until their noses are touching, his breath warm against Richie’s lips. “You wanna go upstairs now?”

Richie glances at the TV from the corner of his eye and watches Westley’s lifeless body in Miracle Max’s workshop before turning his attention back to Eddie, the butterflies in his stomach transforming into something more pleasant.

“Hell yeah.” 

The climb upstairs feels like it happens in slow motion as Eddie holds on to Richie’s hand and leads him through the empty house. He pauses at the door to Richie's room, visibly surprised by the unusual lack of disarray.

“Holy shit, Richie, did you clean your room for me?” Eddie gasps, but doesn’t wait for an answer as he lets go of Richie’s hand and rushes in to inspect the things Richie left on the bed earlier. “And you got everything on my list!”

“I promised I would,” Richie smiles, taking a seat on the edge of the bed.

Eddie holds up the jar of vaseline, his nose wrinkling a little as he reads through the list of ingredients in the back. The lotion gets a green light and Eddie moves on to inspect the rest of the items. “You even got the gloves,” he says, gifting Richie with a well-pleased smile.

Oh yeah. Eddie totally finds the whole thing romantic, and yeah it’s a little weird, but Richie doesn’t give a shit. 

“So, you’ve, um, prepared for this, right?” Eddie asks as he takes a seat next to Richie. His freckles stand out against the blush that's rising to his cheeks, Richie's favorite little constellation. “Like, you know this isn’t gonna go the same way it would if one of us were a girl?”

Richie grins, about to crack a joke about how he’s been dreaming of doing this with Eddie since he first realized what to do with his dick, even if his fantasies back then were way more PG. The joke dies on his lips when he sees the anxious pinch between Eddie’s brows.

“Yeah, Eddie, I know, and I promise I won’t hurt you.”

“I know you won’t,” Eddie smiles, blowing out a relieved breath through the seam of his lips.

"Um. Do you want us to brush our teeth before we begin?" Richie asks.

Eddie's eyes dart between Richie's mouth and the bathroom door, and he nods, looking a little apologetic. Richie squeezes his shoulder to show that it's okay and leads Eddie into the bathroom. His own brush is in a mug on the edge of the sink, but Eddie keeps the spare one he's had since their first sleepover in a special plastic case he got from Richie's dad.

They brush their teeth and Richie circles around the bed to angle the reading lamp on his desk in a way that gives them the perfect mood lighting. He hits play on the cassette player and has the buttons on Eddie’s shirt open by the time their favorite [ _Bon Jovi_ song ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mh8MIp2FOhc) reaches its first chorus. Eddie follows his example, and if the nervous tremble in their hands causes them to fumble a little, both of them choose to ignore it, laughing it off as they undress each other.

Eddie folds their shirts and jeans like he always does, and Richie can’t help himself as he sits cross-legged on the bed in his underwear. He pulls out the old air guitar and joins in on the chorus, singing along slightly off-key.

“I’ll be there for you, these five words I swear to you-”

“Richie…” Eddie laughs, a little flustered.

“-when you breathe, I want to be the air for you, I’ll be there for you.” Richie drums his fingers against his knees until Eddie finally grabs his hands and holds them against his chest until Richie calms down.

“Come on, dumbass,” Eddie giggles. “I wanna make out.”

“Yessir!” Richie says with a salute.

They’re still on familiar ground and it’s easy to fall into their usual routine of kissing and palming each other over their underwear, the knowledge that they don’t have to worry about someone walking in on them making them bolder with their affection.

Richie tangles his long legs with Eddie’s and reaches up to run his fingers through his neatly-combed hair, his smile mischievous as he feels Eddie groan against his lips.

They haven’t even made it to song number two, but Eddie's already hard, the soles of his feet kicking against Richie's shins as he thrusts against the jut of his hip. Richie runs his fingers down Eddie’s spine and slips his hand under the waistband of his underwear, feeling the way the muscle under his palm tenses as Eddie grinds up.

“Get these off,” Eddie pants. He reaches down to tug on the waistband of Richie’s briefs, and who’s Richie to deny him? Eddie’s had him wrapped around his damn finger since they were snotty-nosed kids. Well, Richie was a snotty-nosed kid, Eddie probably never even had dirt under his nails.

“You first,” Richie grins, easing Eddie’s underwear down his thighs.

Eddie lifts his hips, hissing when the waistband pulls on his cock, and they both giggle when they hear it slap against his belly with a wet sound.

Richie kicks his own underwear on the floor and crawls back into Eddie's arms. He kisses his way down Eddie’s neck and pauses to rest his cheek against his chest where his heart beats as wild as Richie's.

“Fuck, I’m already so turned on," Eddie whines, clutching at the hair on Richie’s nape.

“Yeah, yeah, me too.” Richie thrusts against Eddie, leaving a wet smear on his thigh as he mouths at his nipple, the skin there still soft with a fine layer of baby fat even after Eddie’s first and only (so far, as Eddie keeps reminding him) growth spurt.

He feels Eddie's hold on his hair tighten and he tilts his head to meet his eyes.

Eddie chews on his bottom lip, his eyes darting to the nightstand where all the items from his list lie waiting. "Should we, you know, start to _prepare_?”

Richie blinks at him, the world slightly askew from the way his glasses are tilted on the bridge of his nose. “Oh. Yeah. Okay.”

They both sit up, and for a brief, awkward moment, they just stare at each other, equally naked and aroused and wondering where to look.

Richie glances at the jar of vaseline. “Did you wanna be the one who does it to me or do I-”

“No,” Eddie shakes his head, his answer spilling from his lips in a panicked wheeze.

“No?” Richie frowns, unsure how to interpret the word.

“I don't wanna be the one who does it. I mean, I want you to...” Eddie clears his throat and forces himself to look up from his lap. “I want _you_ to fuck me. If that's okay with you?"

“Holy shit yeah, I’d love to,” Richie blurts, his cheeks probably as red as an overripe tomato as he tries to act mature about the whole thing and not like he’s in sex ed, giggling at Mrs Larsen's slideshow with the rest of the class.

Eddie relaxes against the pillows and shifts around as he attempts to make himself comfortable. He ends up with his knees bent and thighs spread with enough space for Richie to settle between them, and Richie follows his eyes to the jar of vaseline still sitting next to the alarm clock on the nightstand.

He reaches over to grab it, unscrews the lid and brings the jar to his nose to smell it.

“The gloves, too, Richie,” Eddie says, handing Richie a pair of cream-colored gloves.

“I really don’t mind doing this without them,” Richie says, but Eddie shakes his head.

“ _I do_."

Richie recognizes the glint of mania in Eddie's eyes that tends to accompany long rants about personal hygiene and every potential disease Sonia had filled Eddie's head with.

“Okay, I’ll put them on, of course I will,” Richie says, stretching the gloves over his long fingers before Eddie can get himself all worked up.

He strokes Eddie’s thigh and nods at his cock where it rests against the valley of his thigh and hip, a little less hard now than it was a moment ago. “Come on, Eds, make yourself feel good.”

Eddie bites his lip and wraps his hand around his cock, starting a nice rhythm of slow strokes as he watches Richie dip his finger in the jar of vaseline. He parts his thighs a little wider for better access, his eyes slipping closed as he blows out a long breath and tries to relax.

Richie’s throat clicks in the silence that settles in the room as one song on the tape segues into another. Once he hears the opening riff of the [ song from _Top Gun_ ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fUis9yny_lI), Richie finally reaches between Eddie’s thighs and parts his cheeks.

“Oh fuck, Eddie. Oh fuck.”

“What?” Eddie’s eyes snap open and his chin digs into his collar bones as he stares down at Richie. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong, though there’s a pretty high chance that this view is gonna make me come in the next ten seconds, because I've just had a glimpse of heaven.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Eddie giggles, and gives Richie a soft nudge. “Come on, get on with it.”

“I love it when you get all bossy on me, babe,” Richie grins, adjusting his glasses. “Okay, you ready?”

“I’ve _been_ ready for the last ten min-- _holy shit!_ ” Eddie yelps as Richie presses his finger against his hole.

“How’s it feel?” Richie asks, biting his lower lip as he watches Eddie between his parted thighs, careful not to push in yet, allowing Eddie to get used to his touch.

“Like I have a vaseline-covered finger poking at my ass?” Eddie says, deadpan, and they both burst into nervous giggles.

"Can I keep going?”

“Yeah, but don't… don't put it in just yet."

Richie spends a long time just stroking his finger over Eddie’s hole and the soft skin around it, getting it so slippery that it glints in the light from his reading lamp. He presses a kiss to Eddie’s knee and holds his gaze, waiting for permission to finally push inside.

"Okay, I think I'm ready," Eddie whispers, and Richie can tell he's nervous from the way he pokes his tongue against the inside of his bottom lip.

He manages to get the tip of his finger inside with relative ease, but he pauses the moment he feels Eddie tense up, and waits for the pressure around his finger to ease before continuing.

“You’re doing so good,” Richie murmurs, dropping a kiss to the inside of Eddie’s thigh. He pulls out at the second knuckle only to push back in again, and this time it’s an easier slide, allowing Richie to start a slow rhythm.

Touching Eddie has always sent his body into overdrive. The sheer thrill he felt when they were just kids and Eddie held his hand in a school play where they played Tweedledee and Tweedledum was better than coming downstairs on Christmas morning and finding a brand new Nintendo under the tree.

Then came the hammock in the clubhouse, also known as the bane of Richie’s existence from 1989 to 1992. The way Eddie’s gaze would hone in on Richie whenever he managed to call dibs on the hammock, like he was doing an internal countdown to the moment Richie's ten minutes were up so he could climb in with him was like some sweet form of self-inflicted torture that Richie looked forward to every time they hung out in their underground lair.

And now he’s touching Eddie in such an intimate way that he feels almost lightheaded as he watches his hand between Eddie's thighs, his cock so hard that it’s leaking into his pubes.

"Does it feel good?" Richie asks hoarsely.

“I guess?” Eddie has his eyes closed as he concentrates on keeping himself relaxed. “I mean, it feels kinda weird, but not in a bad way. I think I like it?”

“Yeah?” Richie murmurs, crooking his finger a little before pulling it out. “You think you’re ready for more?”

Eddie opens his eyes, and Richie holds up two of his fingers to show him what to expect.

“Uhhuh, but add more vaseline first?”

“Aye, aye, Captain.” Richie dips his fingers into the jar and coats them in the creamy lotion. The whole thing feels a little clinical with the gloves on, but Richie would wear a damn hazmat suit if it made Eddie feel more comfortable.

It takes Eddie much longer to get used to the added stretch, but Richie wills himself to stay patient even as his cock aches and bobs between his thighs like something with a will of its own. Eddie would probably laugh and make some genuinely funny joke about it if he wasn’t so lost in his own head.

Eddie’s not as hard as he was when they were just kissing, but Richie takes note of the way he’s beginning to rock his hips to match the thrust of Richie’s fingers. He watches Eddie like a hawk, studying every little expression that passes on his face, and when Eddie lets out a familiar whine, Richie knows he’s doing something right.

Eddie’s about to cover his mouth with his own hand, but Richie hurries to wrap his fingers around his wrist to stop him.

“You don’t have to stay quiet tonight, remember? Come on, let me hear you,” Richie urges.

It turns out to be a huge mistake, because the fucking filthy moan Eddie lets loose has Richie hunching over as his cock strains and spills out a few watery drops of come.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” Richie grabs his dick and wraps his fingers around the base, holding his breath until he feels the overwhelming urge to blow his entire load pass.

Eddie’s looking at him with a smug smile on his face, his dark eyes twinkling in the dim lamp light.

“Shut up,” Richie huffs, trying to scowl at him even as the corner of his mouth pulls up.

“I didn’t say anything,” Eddie grins, the very picture of faux innocence.

They work their way up to three fingers, and Richie’s right hand is starting to feel like it belongs to someone who’s eighty and has arthritis when Eddie finally gives his hip a small nudge.

“Richie?”

“Yeah?”

“I think I’m ready now.”

Richie’s stomach does a proper somersault at the words and he almost yanks his fingers out in his eagerness, the loud hiss from Eddie reminding him to slow down.

“Sorry, I just really, _really_ wanna get my dick inside you,” Richie blurts like a regular prince charming.

“Well, what are you waiting for, then?” Eddie teases, wagging his thick brows in his best Groucho Marx impression. It should look silly, but Richie’s pretty sure it’s one of the hottest things he’s seen, because it’s _Eddie_ , asking Richie to fuck him.

He removes the vaseline-stained gloves and tosses them in the overflowing trash can next to his desk. Eddie tears a foil of condom from the strip and tosses it to Richie, hitting him square in his forehead.

“Ow…” Richie turns the small packet over in his fingers and drops it twice, the plastic slipping between his sweaty fingers as he tries to tear it open. He’s about to use his teeth and Eddie lets out a disapproving yelp, snatching the packet from his hands.

“Are you nuts? You’re gonna tear it,” Eddie scolds, using his neatly trimmed nails to open it. He offers the condom to Richie, but Richie shakes his head and stares at the thing like it’s out to get him.

“Could _you_ put it on me?”

Eddie’s eyes flick between the condom and Richie’s pleading face, and Richie can tell the moment he remembers their shared sex ed class with Mrs Larsen and how Richie had struggled to get a condom on the plastic dick between them, no matter how many times he tried.

“Okay, yeah, I’ll do it,” Eddie nods, his tongue poking out between his teeth as he reaches down to take a gentle hold of Richie’s cock.

Richie hisses at the contact, the arousal that swoops through his entire lower half so strong that he has to squeeze his eyes shut. He feels Eddie place the condom over the head, the slick material sliding over his shaft as Eddie begins to roll it down. Richie’s eyes fly open as he realizes that he’s way past the danger zone, nosediving straight into premature ejaculation.

“Fuck, Eddie! Stop, stop, stop!” Richie grabs hold of Eddie’s hand and tries to still it, but he’s already coming, spilling into the half-applied condom. “Oh shit! _Oh shit!_ ”

He squeezes his fingers around Eddie’s, unable to stop himself from thrusting into their combined grip as he pulses into the condom. It slides off and the rest of his load spills down along his shaft, pooling in the dark hair in his groin.

Richie slumps forward and rests his forehead against Eddie’s chest, trembling a little as Eddie reaches up to run his fingers through Richie’s hair.

“Sorry... “ Richie pants, rubbing his nose against Eddie’s collarbone. “I really didn’t mean for that to happen.”

“No shit?” Eddie snorts, but Richie can tell he’s more amused than upset.

And it’s not like Eddie didn’t go off like a rocket the first time they made out in his bed on Sonia’s bingo night. And there was also that time after Richie came back from a week-long camping trip with his family when both of them were so touch-starved that they didn’t even make it into the clubhouse, collapsing next to the hatch and making a mess in their shorts.

“You think you can go again if we wait a little?” Eddie asks, pushing Richie’s fringe aside to meet his eyes.

“You know I can,” Richie winks, his lips pulling tight over his braces as he shoots Eddie a lewd grin.

Eddie hands him a wet wipe and Richie cleans himself up, making sure to get rid of the half-used condom before Eddie can make any noise about it. He turns the tape over to its B side in the cassette player and they go back to square one, kissing and groping each other. Richie’s hard again by the time [ Foreigner ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4jA-_g_iSY0) is singing about wanting to know what love is, and Eddie is extra careful as he puts the condom on him for a second time.

“Are you sure you wanna do it like this?” Richie asks. “There was this book in the library that said it might be less painful if you turn around and I do it from behind.”

“No way, I wanna see your face,” Eddie says with a defiant little pout.

“Aww, Eds, just admit it, you think I’m hot,” Richie teases.

“Well, duh, of course I do,” Eddie says, and his expression is so genuine that Richie is caught a little off-guard by it.

“Wow. Really?” Richie has to ask, because his coke bottle glasses and overbite and the new addition of his braces don’t exactly work in his favor.

“Yeah, dumbass, you’re really fucking hot, okay? You shouldn't listen to what assholes like Bowers and Hockstetter say or write about you on bathroom walls.”

The sex flush on Eddie’s face is getting several shades deeper, and Richie has to swallow back a sudden surge of some emotion he can’t even identify. It’s threatening to leak out of his eyes, and he’s already blown his load too soon, there’s no way he’s gonna cry during sex.

Eddie wraps his arms around Richie’s shoulders and pulls him down for a kiss, just a couple of pecks on his lips that give Richie enough time to collect himself. He bends his knees and lifts his legs over Richie’s shoulders, the mattress underneath them bouncing as he shifts around to get comfortable.

Richie arches his brows, a silent question in his eyes that Eddie answers with a simple nod. He reaches down and tries to get himself into position, but he may have overdone it with the vaseline, because the head of his cock just keeps slipping against the cleft of Eddie’s ass.

“Oh, _come on_.”

Eddie lets out a quiet snicker, and Richie feels his hand join his own. Together, they begin to guide Richie inside, the anticipation and mild fear that take over Eddie’s features mirrored on Richie’s face.

Richie keeps his eyes on Eddie, barely blinking as he slips inside. His breath gets lodged in his chest at the overwhelming feel of warmth and tightness and _Eddie_. Holy fuck, he’s finally inside Eddie!

“Richie…” Eddie’s voice is small, and his face looks pinched, but when Richie asks him if he should stop, Eddie shakes his head, urging him to continue.

It takes a while before Richie’s all the way in, and it’s even longer before Eddie allows him to move. Every muscle in his body is tense as he attempts to stay still, the bead of sweat that rolls down his temple tickling as it gets caught in his left eyebrow.

Eddie’s mouth hangs open and he stares at Richie with eyes so wide and dark that they remind Richie of the beetle shells he used to keep in a jar as a kid. He gives Richie’s shoulder blade a gentle kick with the heel of his foot, finally signalling for him to move.

Richie pulls out as slowly as he can, his palms sinking into the mattress as he hovers over Eddie’s body, careful not to crush him. The first proper thrust he gives is a little uneven, but it has both of them whining into each other’s mouths as they simply breathe the same air, too distracted to kiss.

Richie does it again, and on his fifth thrust, Eddie lets out a pleased little hum. The sound makes Richie preen, the knowledge that he’s making Eddie feel good giving him a much-needed boost of confidence. He keeps thrusting, groaning at the way Eddie clenches around him every time he pulls away, like he’s desperate to keep Richie in.

It’s that thought that sends Richie into another nosedive.

“Eddie, Eds, fuck, you feel so good,” Richie pants, his rhythm faltering. He wishes he could make this moment last for the rest of his life, but he knows he’ll be done in less than five thrusts. “I think I’m gonna come again. I’m sorry, I can’t hold it back, I just can’t.”

“Hey, it’s okay, Rich, just do it, come on, I want you to come while you’re inside me,” Eddie murmurs against Richie’s lips. He reaches down to grab hold of Richie’s hips and urges him to move, faster and faster, until Richie is tensing against his chest, his toes curling against the soles of his feet.

He fills the condom in the clutch of Eddie’s body and whines at the way Eddie clenches around him, this time on purpose. Richie buries his face in the crook of Eddie’s neck, breathing in the familiar scent of his soap and clean sweat while Eddie rubs gentle circles over his shoulder blades. 

“You okay?” Eddie asks after a while.

“Peachy,” Richie giggles, still on cloud fucking nine. “Holy shit that was good.”

“Uhhuh,” Eddie hums pointedly, and Richie finally has enough sense to lift himself up and glance down to where Eddie’s dick is still hard, straining against his stomach.

“Oh shit, I’m sorry, Eds. Do you want me to jerk you off? Or I could use my fingers again? There’s still plenty of gloves left,” Richie offers, feeling kinda shitty for getting so caught up in his own pleasure. “Anything you want.”

“Well, you could start by pulling out,” Eddie says, but he grabs Richie’s shoulder before Richie has a chance to move, his fingers digging into the muscle. “Do it _slowly_.”

“Slowly,” Richie repeats as he begins to pull out, aware of how sensitive Eddie’s gotten. 

Eddie turns to look away as Richie removes the condom, and Richie snorts at the way Eddie gags at the slick splat it makes when it hits the side of the trash can.

“So. How about that handjob?” Richie asks before Eddie can get too focused on all the bodily fluids and cooties he’s been sharing with Richie for the past half an hour. He’d also love to put blowjobs on the table, but every time he offers one, Eddie declines and goes on a mood-killing rant about the human body and bacteria.

Eddie turns his eyes back on Richie and purses his lips as he considers the offer. Richie’s a little surprised when Eddie shakes his head and sits up, moving around until his crotch is flush against Richie’s left thigh.

“I think this’ll be enough, I’m so close,” Eddie sighs, his eyes rolling back as he begins to thrust against Richie.

“Yeah? You gonna come humping my leg, babe?” Richie chuckles, happy to help Eddie get his rocks off any way he wants.

“Mmhm.” Eddie buries his face in Richie’s hair and clutches at his biceps as his hips pick up speed.

Richie can’t come from simple grinding unless he’s really horny, but Eddie has always loved it. The first time he climbed into Richie’s lap like this on the rec room couch, all it took was twenty seconds of humping for him to cream his shorts.

Richie stares, unblinking, as Eddie begins to lose it, his cock sliding against Richie’s inner thigh, every thrust followed by a high-pitched little _ah-ah-ah_.

Richie slides his hands down Eddie’s back, lower, lower, until he’s spreading his cheeks and reaching between them. He rubs two of his fingers against Eddie’s tender hole, groaning at the way it feels with no gloves in the way, hot and slick.

Eddie’s coming, his fingers digging into Richie’s biceps hard enough to bruise. Richie pulls his hand away and reaches down to give Eddie’s cock a few pumps, breathes out a quiet _yeah, yeah, yeah_ as it pulses out a couple more drops over his knuckles.

Eddie slumps back against the pillows, almost too out of it to even notice it when Richie brings his fingers up and slips them between his lips. _Almost._

“Richie, what the fuck? Gross!”

Richie smacks his lips and makes a show of licking his fingers clean as Eddie continues to make gagging noises at him.

“We’re definitely not kissing again before you down a bottle of Listerine or something. Do you even know how much bacteria there is in someone’s dick? The number is forty-two, Richie, forty-two different types of bacteria!”

“I love your pillow talk, baby,” Richie croons, wiggling his fingers at Eddie, who grabs his wrist and wraps them in a wet wipe.

Richie lies down on his side and strokes his hand over the downy hair on Eddie’s leg. He purses his lips and brushes at a lock of hair that’s fallen over his glasses. “Hey, Eds, I- I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

Eddie watches him through his thick lashes, his cheeks dimpling as he gives Richie a playful poke with his toes. “No, Rich, you didn’t hurt me. I mean, yeah, I’m a little sore, but it’s okay, I’m gonna be fine.”

The final song on their makeout tape fades out, and Richie’s pretty sure they’ve never even made it all the way to the end of the tape until now. Eddie squirms against the pillows and his eyebrows begin to twitch in a telling way.

“Hey, you want me to run you a bath? Help you get clean?” Richie offers. He knows Eddie doesn’t really do the whole basking-in-afterglow thing, and he’ll probably spiral into a proper hygiene rant in the next ten seconds with vaseline all over his ass.

Eddie seems a little taken aback by Richie’s question, his brows climbing up in a surprised arch. And it’s not like Richie is always the most attentive boyfriend in the world, but he likes to think he’s getting better at it every day he gets to have Eddie in his life.

“That’d be nice, Rich,” Eddie smiles, and it’s Richie’s turn to be surprised as Eddie ignores his own words from only a moment ago and pulls him into a kiss.

_FIN_


End file.
